


Cozignance

by RogueLioness



Series: Thedosian Tales [10]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 07:27:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14995841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueLioness/pseuds/RogueLioness
Summary: Carver sees his sister in a new light.





	Cozignance

The stench of singed flesh and congealed blood has him fighting off the urge to run to a corner and retch till his stomach is empty; but somehow, he manages to fight off the urge. **  
**

The First Enchanter lies dead a few feet from him, the lump of gore  all that remains of the man he had once been. Carver feels a wave of sorrow crash over him - Orsino had been a good man, one whose wit he’d admired.

Now the mage is no more, and neither are many of his proteges - as Carver looks at the faces of the enchanters scattered around, he’s chilled by how young some of them are, their faces twisted into a death mask of desperation and fear.

They were younger than Bethany.

Younger than… his eyes skitter around the room, heart seizing each time he thinks he sees a shock of raven hair - _not her, not my sister_  - until at last he spots her form.

She is on her knees, huddled by the few remaining mages - barely a handful of them remain, all of them injured - and her hands glow a familiar gentle blue as she uses the last dregs of her mana to heal those she can. He can only watch - shame has him rooted to his spot - as Anders places a hand on his sister’s shoulder, drawing Marian away and taking her place. She stumbles over to where her friends stand in a tight group, heavy, somber looks on their faces.

The scene that unfolds before him is a familiar one - Marian checks on her friends, making sure they are safe and unharmed. It is what she has always done, Carver realizes. Despite his animosity towards her - his resentment at being overshadowed by her natural command - it is only now when realization hits him.

His sister has never  _wanted_  the spotlight.

She is a protector, first and foremost, one who will do anything to defend those she cares about. He remembers all the times during their childhood where he begrudged the time his sisters spent with their father - but other memories follow soon after. How Marian had begged and pleaded with their parents to be allowed to play with the other children. How he’d had the freedom to roam, and explore, without fear of discovery.

_He_  was the lucky one, he understands at long last. While his childhood was an inconvenience at best, a nuisance at worst, his sisters have had to live with fear and uncertainty dogging their every step.

Marian had not asked to be born a mage. She had certainly not done anything that merited the annulment the Knight Commander had decreed - and perhaps none of the mages dead at his feet had deserved such a fate.

A sharp sound has him raising his head in the direction, where a young mage - one who has not undergone his Harrowing, Carver guesses - hold his staff in a tight grip, suspicion and distrust in his eyes. He braces for the attack he’s sure will come - but it doesn’t.

He opens his eyes to find Marian’s hand on the apprentice’s forearm. “No,” she says quietly. “Let him go.”

“But he’s a Templar! He’ll kill us if we don’t-”

“He is my  _brother_.” Her voice is sharp and sorrowful all at once.

“But Champion-”

“Enough.” Carver has never heard her sound so exhausted, so defeated, and a chill runs up his spine. “I have lost enough. No more. Carver will not hurt you. Rest, and save your energy. You must flee Kirkwall.” The young lad shuffles away to where Merrill is distributing the meager supply of potions that they have, and Carver watches as his sister walks up to him.

She has dark circles under her eyes, and bruises bloom over the skin that is exposed. There is a weariness about her, an exhaustion that runs deep into her bones. “Are you alright, brother?” she asks.

“I am fine,” he replies, then continues, haltingly. “What about you, sister? Perhaps you should let Merrill or-” he pauses for a second, finding it difficult to say the name- “Anders take a look at you…”

“Their help is needed elsewhere,” she dismisses, “I can still stand.” She halts his protests with a stern gaze, an urgent look on her face. “Carver, I need you to listen-” Marian pauses as the faint sounds of metal armor come from behind the locked door. “Listen,” she says in a rush. “If anything happens to me, the estate is yours.”

Carver wants to shake his head, wants to ignore what she says, but deep down he knows the truth.

The battle that wages is one Marian might not walk away from. She is outnumbered, with few allies left to defend her, and Carver knows she will give her life to keep her family and friends - and the innocent - safe.

Still, he argues. “This is not the time, sister-”

“Carver, listen.” The reinforcements are getting closer, he can hear their shouted commands now. “The estate is yours, Donnic has the will. If anything happens to me, just… just take care of yourself… and my friends, okay? Don’t let the Hawke line die out.”

The doors shake with a thunderous boom as the templars begin to force their way in. “Carver,” she wraps her hand around the back of his neck now, pulls him closer till their foreheads touch. He can see his eyes reflected in hers, this close. “I love you brother,” she breathes into the space between them, and he inhales the words in.

“I love you, sister,” He has never been more sincere in his life. “Promise me… please,” he pleads, “be safe.”

She pulls away, a mischievous, confident look in her eye. It is one he is familiar with, and the dread he felt melts away into something warmer. “Of course,” she grins, and kisses his cheek. “Drinks are on me!” she winks at him, and he shakes his head in amusement.

For the first time since he stood against his sister, there’s a hope that they will both - together - come out of this in one piece.

Together, they turn to face the door, standing shoulder-to-shoulder. As they wait for the templars to break in, Marian leans close to his ear, and whispers, “ _I want you to know - I’m so proud of you, Carver_.”

Warmth and affection bloom in his chest as he raises his shield, and braces himself for the incoming attack. As he stands between his former comrades and his sister, there’s only one thought in his head.

_I’m proud to call you my sister._


End file.
